


You only kiss me when you're high

by KendraPendragon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drugs, F/M, Hurt, Serious Illness, Spoilers for Season 4, Tears, Unhealthy Sex, ambulance sex, angsty smut, being sick, don't read if you're in a bad place, season 4, unhealthy relationship, unsettling content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9283817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: WARNING! Contains spoilers for Season 4! This is my contribution to the ambulance sex thing that is making the rounds. But it turned very angsty. Dark, even. And, although I don't like spoiling my own fics, but I don't want to you to feel too sad, so please read the tags and don't read this if you're in a bad place at the moment. Thanks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the angstiest, unhealthiest thing I've written so far, I think. It might be crap. Please let me know, IF you get through this. Thank you.

The sound of the ambulance doors falling shut drones in her ears. Her chest feels tight. Breathing is difficult. She has to focus on her work. Work will get her through this.  
Avoiding to look at him, she gets the equipment.  
Sherlock has already taken off his silk dressing gown and had rolled up his sleeve. Molly is grateful for that. She doesn't want to talk to him. Solely focusing on her work she draws his blood, ignoring the many marks on his arm, thinking of he first time she has drawn it instead, after the fall, to fake the records. A lot of things happened that day, but she doesn't want to think about this. She doesn't want to think at all. For once, she just wants to 'function'. When the analysis of his blood is running, Molly softly knocks on the window, letting Adam know that he can start driving. Molly waits until he has turned the car around, standing next to the stretcher. When the ambulance is driving steadily, she sits down on the folding seat.

Her eyes are staring at her folding hands, the blue of the dressing gown luring. But she won't. Not this time.

All her energy is focused on not crying, anyway.

She is so god damn tired. Why did she come? She shouldn't have.

A beep signals that the analysis is finished and she looks up. Ignoring the gaze that warms her face she stares at the screen. Her legs feel so wobbly. The screen seems to be mile away.

The warmth on her face intensifies. It boosts her energy and she stands up, walks over and, with her heart cramping, looks at the test results.

Molly frowns.

Suddenly she's trapped, his hands on either side of her, his hot, hard front pressed against her back.

His lips brush over her earlobe as he tells her everything. Everything. A knot forms in her throat. She can't breathe.

"She asked me to go to hell. And I will. For her. For him. But I need your help."  
She closes her ears, biting back tears.

She shakes her head.

She can't do this anymore.

He whirls her around, his grip hurting her. Then his hands cup her face and memories are flooding her, tasting bitter on her tongue.

His forehead rests against hers.

She can't breathe. He is suffocating her.

She can't do this. She's not strong enough anymore.

Her short nails dig into his wrists. She knows what is coming. God, she knows it so well.

He tilts up her head. His breath hits her lips.

"No", she whispers and tries to turn her head away, tries to pry his hands off of her.

"Yes."

His hot lips press against hers. He tries to be gentle, but she can taste the desperation; this all devouring hunger.

She mustn't give in. She has nothing more to spare. He can't have any more of her.

Again, she tries to push him away, his hands pressed against his chest.

She feels his heartbeat. So strong. So strong...

He kisses her again, forcing her mouth to open, slipping his tongue inside.

Tastes explode in her mouth: Peppermint, cigarettes, tea, and Sherlock. Pure, delicious Sherlock.

A burst of desire makes her gasp.

Her tongue slides over his, just once. Then more memories, causing her to ache.

"No."

She pushes again and he pants, his forehead pressed against hers. His hand in her neck is scorching her.

"Why?"

Their eyes meet.

She can't breathe.

Desperation. Desire. Need. Something else...

She can see it all in his bloodshot, pale blue eyes.

It hurts so much.

"You only kiss me when you're high."

He stops breathing.

They both know it.

"I kissed you after the fall", he weakly replies.

"You were high on adrenaline."

Tears fill her eyes.

She knew he hadn't been himself. Yet, when he had kissed her then, she had not hesitated. She had given him everything.

She mustn't do that now. She has nothing more to spare.

He pulls her close again until his hot body is pressing her against the cabinets. His hand cups her cheek and his thumb strokes her cheekbone, dragging a wet line across her skin.

She is crying. God, she hates that she is so weak.

"It's the first thing I think about. Every time."

His voice echoes through her body. His eyes are glued to her mouth. Then he kisses her again.

She can feel how much he tries to be gentle, feels it in the quiver of his soft lips.

She can't breathe.

Her head is spinning.

And her heart is aching.

Molly claws her fingers into his shirt when his kiss turns desperate again.

She can't give him any more.

No more. No more...

"I need you."

Her lips quiver and he licks them before he invades her mouth anew, pulling her even closer, slowly consuming her.

"If I die tonight, I want to feel alive now...with you."

She sobs against his lips.

Alive.

Alive...

Molly presses her hand against his chest. His heartbeat thunders against her palm.

He is alive. So alive. And he is about to throw it all away...again.

Foul hatred rises up in her throat.

He has taken so much from her. Every time he had slept with her, he had stolen another piece from her. He had never given it back...

With a desperate moan she kisses him hard. A rough pull and her arms, trapped between their bodies, are free. She slings them around him, one hand fisting in his hair.

His moan vibrates through her mouth and she swallows it greedily.

The hunger for him overpowers her. The heat of his body makes hers feel less cold. She wants more.

This time, she will steal a part of him. And it will be hers forever.

Stealing kiss after kiss from his pulsating lips, she unbuttons his shirt and opens his belt. He flinches when she grips his already hard cock and squeezes it. Throbbing and hot it is. It's hers. Only hers.

Her heart is drumming against her rib cage.

He breaks the kiss to groan when she grabs his testicles.

Their eyes meet. A thousand feelings rush through her system.

"Cough", she says, her own voice sounding strange.

He chuckles and smiles at her.

She will never forget it, she already knows that.

Tears spill from her eyes when he pulls her in for another deep kiss. They feel cold on her cheeks.

Impatiently they undress their upper bodies and when he pulls her naked chest against his and she feels his soft skin, his chest hair and that strong, fast heartbeat, she wishes for time to stop so desperately that it hurts.

  
  


They end up on the stretcher, her skirt rolled up, him on top of her, his face buried in her neck as he pushes into her again and again, his hot breaths hitting her sensitive skin in the same rhythm.

Molly clings to him, one hand fisted in his unwashed locks, staring at the white ceiling, tears blurring her vision. She feel him everywhere, inside of her, and for the first time since she got the test results, she feels alive again.

When she climaxes, a million stars explode inside her head and for one wonderful moment, she forgets. In this one moment she lives forever; with him; happily ever after. She wakes up in his bed, the morning sun waking her, and the sound of his violin will lure her out of the sheets that still hold his warmth and scent, and he will be in the living room, standing by the window, wearing the blue dressing gown, his back to her, playing their song. And she will smile. Her heart will beat strong. And she will be happy. They will be happy. Forever.

When he comes, buried deep within her, he whispers that he loves her over and over again, until he is all spent. He always does. He's not aware of it. Never.

With every time he says it now, he tears her dream apart until there is nothing left but this bitter reality.

Then he breaks down on her, panting, relaxed, kissing her neck and shoulder.

She can't breathe.

He is suffocating her.

She pushes him off.

With her back to him she redresses, forgetting her green cardigan which has slid under the stretcher during the drive. She is re-doing her pony tail when his arms slide around her waist and pull her against him.

His lips linger on her temple, brush over her cheek.

She wants to cry.

"Where's my coat?"

She can't breathe.

Molly points to one of the cabinets. His arms leave her. The car stops.

She opens the doors and sits down, slinging her arms around herself.

She's cold. And so god damn tired.

When John climbs out of the limousine and asks her about the results, she acts her role. Of course she does. She is Molly Hooper. The woman who counts.

She doesn't know if Sherlock tries to make a joke when he tells her she looks stressed. He definitely jokes about dying.

It hurts so bad.

Dying is not funny. She has seen her father die.

It's not funny.

It doesn't just ruin one day. It changes the remaining days forever.

  
  


She looks after him when he leaves, off to take down another beast. He glances back at her.

Molly feels nothing...and everything.

She's so tired.

On the ride back to Barts, Adam strictly keeping his eyes on the road, she has her eyes closed, smelling him, tasting him, feeling his seed slowly drip into her knickers. She feels his sweat stick to her chest; uses all of it as a source of energy to get home.

When she lies in bed, curled up into a ball, Sherlock still on her, she sees him behind her closed lids.

Even though she tries to fight it, he is always with her. Always. Always...

 


End file.
